Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Thirteen

"So it's not a house-warming party?" Lucy asks as we totter down a cobbled street, her wedges clunking and my heavy boots thudding on the uneven stones.

"No. It's like a house...leaving party, I guess? They're moving out and it's like a goodbye. Harry said it's basically just an excuse to get all of their friends together or something," I try to explain as I wrap my denim jacket tightly around me. The summer was slowly drawing to a close, and while the days were still mainly sunny, when the sun began to set the night drew in a chill.

"And who's house are we saying goodbye to?"

"Sarah's."

"And Sarah is not Harry's girlfriend?" She asks for what is maybe the third time since I'd tried explaining all of this to her yesterday when I'd asked her to come to this party with me.

"No. She's the drummer in Harry's band. She's engaged to Mitch, who's the guitarist. They're moving in together next month."

"Right. Okay. I think I've got it now," she shakes her head with a laugh, the dangly silver hoops she wears tussling around her shoulders.

She was wearing a beautiful off the shoulder dress that floated to her mid calf, and when she'd shown up on my door step looking like a modern day Esmeralda, I'd groaned and made her help me to pick out a new outfit. Because next to Lucy I always felt underdressed and plain.

She'd assured me the jeans and T-shirt I originally had planned to wear was fine but I'd insisted on an outfit change, and somehow she managed to cobble together something that made me feel at least a little more put together. Just a polka dot midi skirt and plain blank tank and my trusty denim jacket thrown over, but after I'd applied a light layer of red lipstick I felt kind of pretty; and I hadn't felt that way in a long time.

I wasn't quite sure why it mattered; maybe because I was nervous to meet Harry's friends. Part of me was terrified of this new step in our friendship. Apart from that time at the pub for Rafferty's fiftieth birthday, Harry and I had never spent time together in the presence of others. And now that we had officially re-friended, I wasn't sure at all how this new dynamic would work.

How should I act around him? How much did his friends know about our past? What if they knew every painful detail? Would they hate me?

The whole idea had made me feel sick all week after Harry's invitation, and I'd let the thought of making an excuse not to go circle my mind a number of times. Except I'd made a promise, to him and myself that I'd do it for real. That I was all in this time, no more letting him down.

And Sarah's texts throughout the week had helped. Harry had given her my number, after not so casually requesting it for himself one morning over a cup of tea and croissant shared at the back of the market building.

"Sarah wants your number," he'd blurted out, brushing almond croissant crumbs from his striped T-shirt.

"Oh. Okay. Did she say why?" I asked, sipping my tea whilst shading my eyes from the sun.

"No idea. Probably to talk some more smack about me," he'd shot me a grin which I could only return. "Type it in my phone and I'll pass it along to her."

He'd held his phone out to me, to which I was surprised to see that whilst it was still a smart phone it was a very old model, the screen scratched and worn with a bright orange case covering the back.